


Inquiring Minds Would Like to Know

by kirui



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Humor, M/M, PWP without Porn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirui/pseuds/kirui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo's aim is getting better, and some days Izaya can be caught unaware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquiring Minds Would Like to Know

**Author's Note:**

> The migration of fics from livejournal continues. Written in 2010, actually, as a response for the series' first kink meme. Have since lost track of the original prompt (which was "against a vending machine," if I recall correctly), but considering the amount of grammatical and mechanical errors in the original fill, it is probably for the best.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d expected to spend his afternoon. 

Actually, scratch that. Being trapped against a much-battered cigarette vending machine by a near throat-crushing grip and one viciously triumphant Heiwajima Shizuo at the other end of said grip didn’t even come _close_ to how Izaya had imagined he would spend the rest of what used to be a perfectly routine afternoon. 

As most ironic situations are wont to be though, his day had started out normally enough: from Shinjuku to Takadanobaba, he’d caught five (5) salarymen with their hands up a school girl skirt; from Takadanobaba to Ikebukuro, another three (3). 

Izaya rather liked riding the Yamanote line in the mornings. 

He’d then followed one of his unsuspecting photography subjects on a whim and concluded his morning quite satisfactorily after compiling enough information to orchestrate a minor Greek tragedy within an hour. 

But somehow, in between disposing the remnants of his lunch to a noisy clutter of strays and preparing to head towards the residential district to sow a few seeds of discontent, he’d had the paradoxical fortune of being sighted by his former schoolmate. 

Who'd aimed his projectile of choice to land in front of Izaya, just before he exited the alleyway.

Izaya contemplated the row of cigarette packs at eye-level, bemused even while facing a rush of displaced air and fine debris.

Looked like Shizuo’s aim was getting better. 

How inconvenient.

“I’ve gotcha now, I-za-ya- _kun_ ,” Shizuo said in what may have been his attempt at a sing-song voice, though Izaya couldn’t be too sure. Each ground-out syllable was punctuated by the flex of fingers suddenly pressed against his arteries, the faint tremor of murder barely held in check. The honorific in particular was spat out with undisguised venom. So Izaya hid his grimace and offered, instead, his best depreciative smile. Never mind the soon-apparent fact that merely maintaining his normal expression had become an exercise in gritting his own teeth. 

“Yes, congratulations Shizu-chan,” he managed, only to cough involuntarily as the hand around his jugular tightened again in momentary warning. 

“You bastard will never learn, will you.” 

Right, right; better save the customary endearments for when he was no longer, you know, dangling from the hand of one (1) violence incarnate. 

Shizuo leaned forward, and Izaya wasn’t _quite_ prepared for the sudden replacement of that shark-like smile with an alarming close-up of equally familiar violet-shaded eyes. In fact he wasn’t ready at all for the almost tangible pressure that seemed to roll off Shizuo in ominous waves. 

The man really was like a furnace when beyond pissed, Izaya noted, and redoubled his efforts to grab a hold of his switchblade. 

When Shizuo spoke again, his voice had deepened to almost that of a growl—a low, menacing thing hiding in the back of his throat that suggested all manners of physical unpleasantries. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this chance to get my hands on you.” 

“So you could show me some Tender Loving Care? Actually, I’m sure I could make an educated guess,” Izaya said. His fingertips brushed the cold line of carbon fiber in a hidden pocket. “Seven years right? Give or take a year,” and chose that very moment to strike. 

He whipped his arm up from where it’d hung limp moments before, flicking open the blade in the same motion. 

To be honest, Izaya didn’t have any grand expectations. Not of the situation or of himself. The amount of leverage he had at his disposal was little to none, so the chances of his tightly-controlled swipe landing anywhere vital were equally low. But if he could just catch Shizuo off guard, enough to break free of this damned choke-hold and put some precious distance between them... 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shizuo snarled as he jerked his head back away from that dangerous arc. Unfortunately, his hold remained as tight and unforgiving as before, and Izaya only had a moment to smile in bitter resignation as the knife tip drew a thin slant of blood under the edge of Shizuo’s signature shades before knocking them to the ground. 

Quicker than was fair (in Izaya’s increasingly put-upon opinion), Shizuo disarmed him by grabbing the hand wielding the switchblade and snapping the wrist back. 

It was truly a miracle that his wrist didn’t break as a result, Izaya reflected with resentful amusement. God, he really did hate this guy. 

This time he _was_ expecting to be slammed back again, the dividing line between glass pane and number pad digging against his spine, but damn it, it still hurt like hell. The vending machine itself beeped as if in protest, and soon ended its complaints with the sound of a cigarette pack tumbling free into the dispenser. 

Well, that had ended spectacularly, Izaya mused. Spectacularly awful. Not only were both hands pinned—one in an unyielding grasp pinned to his side while the other was crushed behind his back—but Shizuo had decided that now only a full body check would do: forearm to throat, leg pinned brazenly between his. 

How cliché. Izaya almost laughed at their picture of unwelcome intimacy. 

“You really should stop throwing things like a child, Shizu-chan. 'The mysterious teleporting vending machines of Ikebukuro. Here one day, there the next!’” Izaya said instead. He directed his next taunt against his better judgment at all the ill-contained rage above him with the coyest smile he could muster. "But seriously, you’d better hope nobody gets curious about _this_ particular alleyway-blocking vending machine. They might get the wrong impression.” 

Shizuo inhaled. And expelled that breath by pressing his forearm even higher under Izaya’s chin. “I am going to _kill you_ ,” Shizuo said. “Slowly,” he added and, true to his word, Izaya found himself suffering the severe inconvenience of sudden oxygen deprivation. 

... only to see stars as his lungs expanded in a rush of air several breathless seconds later. A flushed and shocked blond met his gaze as the pressure against his jugular lessened from one moment to the next. 

It might’ve been a misstep, or even an accidental shift—but no, actually it was probably his last-ditch attempt to gain a solid foothold against the edge of the machine’s dispenser. He’d bent the leg positioned between Shizuo’s own with every intention of bracing against the box behind him. 

Seemed like he’d unwittingly braced against something else in the process. 

Izaya stared at the warring emotions on Shizuo’s face and almost forgot how to break free. In fact, breaking free was arguably the last thing on his mind.

Sometimes he wondered if he wasn’t too much of an opportunist; too much of an inquisitor. But now was not one of those times.

Rage, shock, rage, rage, and was that really arousal there? Well now. Wasn’t this an interesting development? Albeit, in retrospect, he'd already witnessed many humans who seemed to experience rage and lust hand-in-hand. 

That Shizuo was one of them somehow came as no big surprise, really. 

Izaya leaned in towards the brazier of murderous intent and basked in the fleeting dumbfounded expression on Shizuo’s face before it was once again replaced with something less human. “I’ve always worried that you’d suffered some major complications after that one accident in Shinra’s chemistry lab, you know. Erectile dysfunction can be quite crippling.” Izaya smirked even as that frightening killing aura spiked up once again and Shizuo all but shoved against him with every visible intention of headbutting him, or something. 

Up close, Shizuo’s eyes were very bright. Wild.

“Or we could do it this way,” Izaya mumbled around the sudden taste of blood, teeth, and the hot, wet slick of another’s tongue in his mouth. 

(And, as it turned out, “or something” was biting off his face.)

___________________________________________________________

 **FIN**  
Completed: January 27, 2010  
Revised: April 28, 2014


End file.
